Afghanistan or Iraq?
by Meilodi
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, a teenager aged 16, is the world's youngest and only consulting detective. John Watson, aged 16 and just returned from Afghanistan with a wounded father. When they meet, John's ordinary life is turned upside down. Includes adapted original Sir Doyle Stories. Teen!lock. Warning: bad language, innuendos.


Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Anything you might recgonize, I do not own. I do not own anything except my own fair share of air.**

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"Freak."

"Hello Sally, had a nice shag last night?"

"Wh..who told you that?"

"No one, does Anderson's girlfriend know?"

"Shut up, Freak!"

John watched the exchange from across the courtyard, a lean boy with curly hair leaning against the tree, looking smug, and the girl stalking off, blushing like a tomato.

"And here is where people usually hang around during break, do you have any questions?"

John snapped out of staring at the boy and turned to Mike, who was assigned to show him around,

"Um. Yeah, who is that?"

"Oh, him? That's Sherlock Holmes." Mike said, looking at him with a mixture of admiration and annoyance,  
"He's sharp as a pin, get's the best scores in the whole school and doesn't even try. Also, he's a completely annoying prick, can tell anything about anyone with a glance."

"How?"

"No one knows." Mike said, "Anymore questions?"

"None, thanks for showing me around." and John wandered off to class.

After school, John shouldered his backpack and started walking home when a crowd of people in the courtyard attracted his attention. Curious, he steered towards it and sees that the crowd is surrounding two figures, one with his fists raised, the other standing still,

"Is that Sherlock?" he asked himself, and indeed it was. His mop of black hair bounced as he dodged blow after blow from the boy effortlessly, only moving his head and just in time for the boy to miss him. After about the forth or fifth blow, the boy started staggering and with one last feeble punch, which Sherlock dodged easily by side stepping to one side, collapsed on the pavement.

"Why does Anderson even bother?" John heard a girl murmur, "Sherlock doesn't even break a sweat fighting with him..."

"Freak!" Sally from the morning, who was apparently shagging Anderson according to Sherlock, shouted, "Call the headmaster!"

"Your precious started it, not me. So I would save the trouble of calling him down here all the way just to get your Anderson in trouble."

"What do you mean your Anderson? I am Anderson's girlfriend!" A girl with blonde hair stepped out, glaring at Sherlock and Sally,

"Don't you dare say a word!" Anderson staggered up from the pavement, pointing a finger at Sherlock,

"OK, I won't say anything, not a word." Sherlock leaned in to Anderson, then abruptly turned around and walked out of the school,

John jogged and walked out of the school, deciding there's not much to look at anymore, while the shrill voice of Anderson's girlfriend demanding the truth rose up from the crowd going ohh and ahh.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock suddenly said, not turning around to acknowledge John, who quietly walked behind him,

"Sorry, what?" John was bewildered, glancing around to make sure he was talking to him,

"Afghanistan or Iraq? Your Dad."

"Um... Afghanistan, who told you that?"

"Nobody."

"Then how do you know."

"Easy, you are a transfer student who transferred in the middle of the school year." Sherlock spun around to face him, his unbuttoned coat swishing around him, "You have a tan line from above the wrist, but nobody goes on holiday wearing a long sleeved shirt, so you were at some place that you can get a tan, but you had to go to school, or at least dress formerly. Why didn't you wait until the end of the school year to transfer? Something happened, then. The next part is easy, rumors are flying around that your Dad got shot in war."

"There's already rumors?"

"Rumors travel as fast as the light in this school, keep that in mind." he said,

"John Watson, though you probably already knows." John said, extending his hand towards him. He stared at the hand briefly before slowly extracted his hand from his coat pocket and reaching out to shake his hand,

"Sherlock Holmes."

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